


of sweets and secrets

by hakanaii



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Jinx Starla, Sebastian Odair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakanaii/pseuds/hakanaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the secrets that float between the decorated mouths of the Capitol elite, very few are about Finnick Odair. One of his clients decides she'd like to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of sweets and secrets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marblesharp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marblesharp/gifts).



> for marblesharp for her birthday who provided the prompt "Cookies" several weeks ago. Also, thank you to BaronessKika for pre-reading. :)

* * *

 

Of all the secrets that float between the decorated mouths of the Capitol elite, the least kept one by far is how much Finnick Odair is partial to sweets. Which types tickle his fancy gets passed along a broken telephone line. While some assume its the colourful, paradoxical salt water taffy, others believe it’s the rich, decadent macaroons made from the coconuts grown in District 4.

 

With each new client, another delicacy gets taste tested bringing a cornucopia of flavours to burst onto his tongue. Finnick could say that he penciled in many of the treats he had snacked on, particularly the truffles with irish creme filling. However, no one came close to figuring out which treat lay rest on it’s pedestal in his heart.

 

  
Until Jinx Starla.

  
  


Gliding out from the elevator lift towards the door to the penthouse suite, Finnick expects to be greeted by Jinx Starla’s lavender eyes and fragile figure (she has a tendency to wash down her meals with a flute filled with syrup of ipecac, so he’s heard). Instead, the lifeless eyes of an Avox greet him instead. They usher Finnick into the suite and guiding him down the marble hallways to the salon where displays of cookies, sweets and other treats cover every available surface.

 

“Spared no expense,” Finnick mumbles beneath his breath as he plucks a macaroon off a nearby tray and pops it in his mouth.The Avox, giving no indication of having heard the comment, continues on with their duties offering Finnick a glass of wine. A simple smile and a curt shake of his head has the Avox vanishing through a gold trimmed door that Finnick assumes is the master bedroom. Jinx must still be getting ready. He tries not to think what for.

 

Idly touring around the lot of tables and counters,eyeing the multitude of sweets, Finnick can’t help but laugh at the thought of what lengths these people go to to be the first to learn one of his secrets. The greedy fools. Isn’t it enough that they’ve agreed to pay the ever growing price tag for his humanity, now they demand he give them more? That he reach into the depths of his most cherished moments and share them with Panem? Of course not.

Finnick hears the faint click of the door before he feels her arms snake around his slim fitting blazer. Her hands slide beneath the lapels, dragging her boney fingers down his clothed chest. Jinx’s pointed chin digs into his shoulder as her lips find the strip of exposed skin on his neck to press violet coloured imprints onto.

 

“See anything you like, darling?” she purrs. Hints of vomit still linger on her breath.

 

“Not yet,” Finnick says with a smile.

 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” she giggles like a jabberjay. Slipping her arms out from around him, Jinx palms the curve of his taut chest and well defined core until her fingers cease their wandering, weaving themselves through the spaces of his fingers.

 

“It wasn’t easy to find these, let me tell you, I had to pull quite a few strings and make some promises that I’d normally never keep if I didn’t know that it would help me learn Finnick Odair’s most sought after secret.” Those lavender tinted irises and dilated pupils glare back at him as the points of her teeth poke through the seam of her plush lips in a nefarious grin.

 

He refuses to let himself be baited by his fear. Jinx Starla is probably like the rest of them with their assumptions and their exuberant talk of knowledge they don’t have. How could they when all they know is what is spoon fed to them.

 

“If it really means that much to you, I could just tell you my favourite treat,” Finnick let’s her pull him into the depths of her chambers and pushes him over the foot of bed.

 

“And how do I know you wouldn’t be lying?” Jinx smirks. Slipping the buttons out of their holes, pushing the slim fitting blazer off his shoulders and down his arms. Crawling up the length of his body, her violet lips find the hinge of his jaw, peppering kisses along the straight cut line until they land on the curve of his Adam’s apple.

 

“What would I gain from lying to you?”

 

“Oh, Finnick,” she giggles again, running her boney fingers through his strategically styled hair replicating the post-coitol look. “You have everything to gain. In this little arrangement, I’m the one who will be walking away stripped and exposed devoid of my most precious secrets and at least a fifth of my savings. The least you could do is tell me one of yours, don’t you think you owe me that much?”

 

Biting down into his tongue,he ceases the argument that threatens to roll off it. Patrons flowing with entitlement, worse than those eager to ebb their plaguing guilt. He owes them nothing, never has, but none of that matters.

 

“Before or After?” his teeth relinquish their grip on his tongue.

 

“Before of course, darling,” Jinx sits up, a giddy grin stretched across her over powdered too tight face.

 

A snap of her fingers has an Avox saddling up beside the bed, silver tray in hand, with a plate of caramel sandwiched between two sugar cookies piled high. They almost look like the macaroons in the den, but Finnick knows better. The coconut flakes coating the rim of the cookies give it away. It is Annie’s special touch.

 

He tries to sit up, but Jinx pushes him back down onto the plush pillows. Plucking one of the treats from the tray, she rolls it between her fingers before scraping a bit off the top.  

  
“Such an interesting flavour, quite unique. I see why you like them so much,” Jinx scrapes a little more of the coconut and caramel. Breaking off half the cookie, she rests it on his lower lip edging it closer for him to taste. “Don’t you want to have a bite?”   
  
Finnick doesn’t budge, the muscles in his face seize making movement in his jaw not possible. He wants to oblige, but he can’t. Watching as her drawn in eyebrows knit together and the lines in her face expose the wrinkles she’s desperately trying to hide, he begins to worry.

 

“Y’know what I find most interesting about these though,” Jinx says, the spark of frustration falling back into place. “...is who made them. It seems that when my friend, the Peacekeeper Chief of District 4, came to deliver the cookies to me, he said that your district’s Head Peacekeeper refused to offer up the name of the person who bakes these delectable treats. She must be quite the special woman for an officer to disobey authority like that. Do I know her?”

 

No one really knows Annie Crest. Not like him.  

 

Finnick drops his eyelids as a smirk draws onto his face. Pushing his tongue past his lips, he drags the piece of cookie into his mouth chewing delicately before swallowing. “Isn’t that asking for one secret too many? I thought we had a deal?”

 

That spark of frustration becomes sizzling anger in Jinx’s lavender eyes. Curling her fingers around his neck, the points of her nails dig into the side of the soft flesh making him gasp for a breath.

 

“You’re brother, Sebastian, is on some pretty thin ice back home, isn’t he? Getting in trouble with the Peacekeepers daily, believing that he’s exempt from their wrath because his darling big brother is whoring himself out for his immunity,” Jinx whispers in his ear. “It would be so easy to have him killed. All I have to do is say the word.”

 

“What authority do you have?” Finnick asks.

 

“Our lovely President granted me permission,” Jinx’s smile is like acid as she unfurls her fingers from his throat catching the fear in his eyes. “So let’s try this again, Finnick, what is the name of the woman who bakes these fabulous cookies that you love?

 

Finnick knows he can’t afford another death. To have another set of lungs blame him for failing to protect them in the midst of his nightmares. His sister would never speak to him again after the funeral. And yet, what would Jinx do with her new found knowledge? By no means does he trust she’ll keep such a secret like his fraternization with Annie Cresta, however, Annie is still untouchable. His contract with Snow claims as much. Though, it would be naive of him to assume the President couldn’t change their agreement at will to best suit him. Finnick will have to take a risk, then come up with a new strategy. Keeping Annie safe is something he knows how to do almost as well as gutting a fish.

 

As Jinx’s brows lift in question, waiting impatiently for an answer, Finnick takes a breath. Then speaks.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The blast of gunshots ring from the central square to the furthest corner of Victors’ Village leaving no inch of District 4 unscathed from the nightmarish din.

 

She doesn’t come out from under the covers until the whistle of the train fills the air. But even then she refuses to leave her bed, scared of the profuse amount of her friend’s dried blood staining in the streets awaiting his return.  

  
  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Annie knows to start slow, to inch one step towards his house two doors down. It takes her a week after his arrival before her feet carry her all the way up the sand-coloured interlocking of his walkway and to knock on the beechwood door.

  
When he doesn’t answer, she tries again.

 

The door creaks open and he’s pale, drained with eyes rimmed red. He’s everything like her and nothing like himself.

 

“A-annie?” Finnick croaks.

 

“Annie,” Some light comes back into his cloudy eyes, on the doorframe as if he is too weak to hold it up. "What took you so long? I was almost worried you hated me, too."

 

Her chest clenches at his words.

 

"Don't be absurd," she is tempted to roll her eyes. "I didn't want to come by before you were...more settled."

 

"Well aren’t you just the sweetest thing," She knows he doesn't mean to be condescending, it is just some residual from spending the last few weeks pretending he’s someone else.

 

"Can I come in?" She nudges a toe past the door frame but Finnick stretches the length of his body along the space. He offers her a weaker version of his usual radiant smile.

 

"The sun is out, winds mild, how about we have that lovely picnic you packed down by the beach instead?” his eyebrows, still freshly waxed, quirk as he points to the handwoven basket between her fingers. The Capitol encouraged her to have a talent, something to keep her busy during the day. Annie found it to be more useful than they intended.

 

“Alright,” she says, taking a step back as Finnick slips on a pair of sandals and closes the door behind him. He won’t even let her cut through the house to get to the beach which sits beyond his deck. Annie is certain they established an understanding about not keeping secrets from each other, that they bring upon bad winds. What has he deemed too secretive even for her ears?

 

Annie doesn’t get a chance to form the first sound to her sentence when Finnick slips his fingers through her empty hand and dips his head, pressing a curt kiss to her lips. It’s the most she expected after his second week back, but the sense of urgency is something new.

 

“Is there something you need to say, Finnick,” Stepping back, Annie keeps a hold of his hand as she scrutinizes the lines of his face.

 

“That you’re the most beautiful woman on this side of Panem,” The way the sun hits his still polished teeth makes Annie want to hit him. Deflecting was his least admirable quality. “Let’s just find a spot and I’ll feed you whatever it is that you packed.”

 

Annie doesn’t rise to the bait.

 

Hand in hand they find a spot under a half uprooted tree that is hanging onto the ground with one stubborn root. Laying out the blanket Finnick falls onto the fabric, spreading out like a starfish in an attempt to soak up the sun. Maybe then he’ll look a little more like himself.

 

One by one, she pulls out a loaf of District 4’s traditional seaweed bread along with a variety of meats, cheeses, fruits and last but not least a container of the cookies that he loves. They're a Cresta family recipe, passed down from generation to generation. Made from caramel sandwiched between two sugar cookies with a hint of a unique ingredient making no two cookies over the generations taste the same.

 

Looking up, Annie gaze meets his before flittering down to the container in her hands. She pops the lid and carefully removes one from its parchment paper foundation.

 

"Would you like one," Annie rests the cookie oozing with caramel and coated with coconut on the palm of her hand.

 

Finnick doesn't reach for it like she anticipates, just stares at the treat without purpose other than for a place to rest his eyes as his mind travels elsewhere. Usually, getting lost in the Capitol between what he calls Mentor Central and the bed sheets of his wealthiest adoring fans.

 

"Finnick," Annie calls, reaching out to stroke the rough patches of stubble growing in along his jaw with her free hand. "It's Annie, we're out on the beach,having lunch. Why don't you have a cookie? I know they're your favourite."

 

The lifeless turquoise, sharpens, etching unexpected fear into his face. Bolting upright, he plucks the cookie from her hand and throws it far out into the ocean. The waves ripple where the treat lands but the sound is minimal. All that can be heard is his ragged breathing.

 

Squaring his shoulder and inhaling deeply, Annie watches as a fresh, splotchy ring of red forms beneath his glistening eyes. Pulling his knees to his chest and tucking his head under, Annie notices the way Finnick’s body begins to tremble, threatening to lose control.

 

Saddling up beside him, she combs her fingers through his hair and down his back in the most effective way she knows how to soothe him. Annie loves the little wisps of hair his stylist left spiralled around the nape of his neck. It's always great fun for her to twist around her fingers on the many nights she curls up beside him refusing to sleep.

 

“While you were away, Sebastian came to visit me one day. Brought a pouch of sea glass, some string and a gold ring and asked me to teach him how to make a dreamcatcher,” Annie says. “He told me he wanted to make my nightmares go away. When I asked him what about yours he said, ‘That’s what you’re there for’.”

 

Her fingers slip from around the curls as Finnick picks up his head, tear tracks evident on his sun kissed cheeks. Wrapping them around his jaw, she reels him in until their lips meet in a slow, loving kiss. The same kind he presses on her to bring her back. Pulling himself from the cage of limbs, Finnick weaves his fingers through the tendrils of Annie’s long, dark hair cradling her head as he presses back into her lips, desperately.

 

“A-annie,” Finnick hiccups, a new wave of tears fall like floods down his face as he clings to her. “I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry. So so sorry.”

 

“Bastian loved you in his own rambunctious little brother way. If you asked him, I know he would have chosen my safety over his, for both our sakes,” Annie’s lip peel off with of Finnick’s with a pop as she touches her forehead to his. “I don’t hate you because the choice you made.”

 

“Really?”

 

Annie laughs, “Finn, I could never hate you. Especially not when you’re trying so hard to keep us alive.”

 

“Thank you,” he whispers, stroking her cheek with the rough skin of his knuckles before touching his lips to hers.

 

Giggling like a star twinkles in the night, Annie brushes the remnants of sorrow from Finnick’s cheek with the pad of her thumb. “How about we have lunch now, hm? Before the bread gets cold.”

 

“You’re too good to me, Annie,” Finnick finds it in himself to laugh as he opens up the another set of tupperware containers filled with steamed vegetables, tuna salad sandwiches and sliced up peaches. They leave the container of caramel cookies aside, enjoying the refreshing taste of summer bursting on their palate.

  
Of all the secrets that float between the decorated mouths of the Capitol elite, Finnick Odair and his relationship with Annie Cresta won’t be one of them.

 

* * *

 


End file.
